


Glad Tidings

by Wolfsbride



Series: Christmas 2014 [2]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Age Difference, F/M, Older Woman/Younger Man
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-04
Updated: 2014-12-04
Packaged: 2018-02-28 02:37:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2715809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wolfsbride/pseuds/Wolfsbride
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Santa gets a little help from a not so secret agent.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Glad Tidings

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Persiflage](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Persiflage/gifts), [tayryn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tayryn/gifts).



> To Pers - who wanted - secret santa - tanner's organising it, Bond wants M, so he trades his person to someone he knows wants that person, and basically does this three or four times until he finds who randomly drew M - because I am contrary, I totally turned this into something else. I hope you enjoy it regardless.
> 
> To Tay - who gave me the gifts for M and who filled in as beta since I wanted it to be a PROPER surprise for Pers. God knows she'll probably have to fix it after the fact :)

Bond slips silently into Tanner’s office but before he can even say anything, much less take out the slip of paper that has been burning a hole in his jacket pocket, Tanner shoots him down.

“No.” 

Bond pouts a little, not that it does him any good since Tanner hasn’t even bothered to look up from the reports he’s scanning. 

“Oh, come on, Bill! I just want to know who got M.”

Tanner flips a page. “It’s called Secret Santa for a reason, James. You know, like secret agent. Though, I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised that _Bond, James Bond_ doesn’t understand the concept.” 

“Hey!” Bond tries to not to feel insulted. He can’t help that he’s recognizable.

Tanner makes a waving motion. He still hasn’t made eye contact. “Please vacate my office.”

Bond leaves while muttering about friends who won’t help their friends out.

~*~*~*~*~*~

A few days later, Bond corners Eve while she’s getting ready to leave. The office is empty as M is off having some meeting or the other with stuffed suits behind locked doors. He slides a slim box decked with a cheerful bow across her desk, but he doesn’t lift his hand. 

Eve eyes him, then pulls on her coat and sits down again. She taps the back of his hand. “Bribery, James?”

Bond splutters. Ratted out by Bill! The man really knew him too well. “It’s not bribery. I drew your name, fair and square. It’s just… an incentive?” 

Eve hums thoughtfully. “I reserve the right not to tell you anything if I don’t like it.” She grins at him cheekily. 

Bond rolls his eyes. As if. Slowly, he lifts his hand, then straightens up to give Eve some space.

Lifting the lid, Eve folds back the delicate tissue paper. She puts a hand to her mouth but the gasp escapes regardless. Inside, sparkling against the black velvet of the box, is a narrow diamond bracelet. 

“James.” Eve’s voice is hushed.

Belatedly, Bond realizes how such a present might look and uncharacteristically he stumbles over his words. “Um. It’s… It’s not… Uh… It goes with your necklace.” He finally manages to say, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. 

Eve laughs brightly. “Of course it does! Trust you to notice such things.” Getting to her feet, Eve rounds the corner of her desk. She hugs him, whispering in his ear. “Bad luck though, since I my letter is Q not M.”

She dances away from him, snatching the bracelet off her desk as she does so. “No take backs, James!” Her giggles follow her down the hall.

~*~*~*~*~*~

When Bond finally gets around to visiting Q, it’s the middle of the next week. He finds Q in his sanctum hunched over a laptop, tying furiously. He only stops, looking up in surprise, when Bond places a medium sized box next to the laptop. 

Q looks at him and then at the box like he expects it to explode. “Well, at least I know it’s not jewellery.”

Bond winces. For a bunch of secret agents, no one seems able to keep a damn secret. “Yeah. Well… Get it over with.”

Smirking, Q pulls the box towards him and carefully removes the wrapping paper. The smirk fades, replaced with first shock and then embarrassment. His cheeks are flushed as he folds down the flaps on the box and lifts the very detailed, very articulated, Optimus Prime Transformer out of its container. 

He stares down at toy for a minute, fingers idly following the different joints and slots that make it possible for the toy to transform. Turning it over, he sees there’s a small button in the middle of the toy’s back. When he presses it, he almost drops it in surprise when the toy starts folding in on itself, changing into Optimus' red and blue semi trailer, while making the telltale transformation noises. When he finally looks up, Q’s eyes are wide. 

“How…” Q clears his throat. “How did you know?”

Q looks so stunned that Bond forgoes the quip about how finding secrets was his job. He actually feels a little sleazy now, for all the time he spent snooping through Q’s possessions. He shrugs.

Q’s eyes narrow. “I’m going to forget what you did to figure out what to get me, but I swear, you break into my place again, I’ll have it wired so you get shot.” He spoils the ultimatum by ducking his head and muttering thanks.

Bond waits and then makes an exasperated noise. “Well?”

Looking up, Q grins. “No really. Thanks, James, but I got Bill.”

Bond groans and makes himself scarce. 

~*~*~*~*~*~

Bond shows up at Tanner’s apartment two weeks before Christmas. It had taken a little while to decide on Tanner’s gift and then getting it had taken a little while longer, since espionage didn’t take holidays. It had occurred to him mid-way between Q’s gift and Tanner’s gift, that he could have easily cut out the middle man but it’s actually been rather fun to see Eve and Q’s smiles, and he’s nervously looking forward to Tanner’s reaction.

When Tanner opens his door, his eyebrows go up but he lets Bond in even though he wasn’t expecting him. He takes Bond’s coat and hangs it up, after taking a quick glance at the plain paper bag Bond is carrying. Bond follows Tanner into his living room, where the other man waves him into a chair. 

“Drink?”

“Sure.” Clearing his throat, Bond lifts the bag from where he’d set it beside him. “Here.”

Tanner takes the bag, his cautious expression morphing into one of delight. “Irish whiskey! And three bottles!” He shoots Bond a look. “Really trying to sweet talk me, aren’t you James.” His tone is mocking but his expression is fond.

Bond shakes his head. He really doesn’t want Tanner thinking he’s got an ulterior motive. “No, I’ve given up harassing people. I just thought it’s something you’d like.”

“Well, you thought right. Though, I always feel a bit like I'm going to be called up for treason.”

Tanner grins at Bond's snort. “Hang on a mo.” 

Putting the bag down carefully, Tanner disappears down the hallway. Bond hears a door open, then a few minutes later, he hears it close and Tanner returns. He hands Bond a small box. When Bond opens it, he finds a watch inside. 

“To replace the one that got smashed on your last mission.”

Bond smiles. “Thanks, Bill.” Taking the watch out, he slips it onto his wrist. It fits him perfectly. He turns his wrist, watching the way the face of the watch catches the light. “I guess that means you drew my name.”

“Yes. I hear you’ve turned into ole Kris Kringle himself. Bringing joy and glad tidings to all us good girls and boys.” 

Bond looks up from his new watch to glare at Tanner. “Watch it, Bill. I can still fill your stocking with coal.”

~*~*~*~*~*~

When M finally gets home, she’s dead on her feet. It seems at this time of year when everyone else is good willing toward men, her superiors turn more Scrooge-like. While she does understand the Finance Minister’s concerns, it’s not like resources grow on trees. She’ll be damned if she’s going to send the men and women under her care out with substandard equipment or intel, just because some uptight lily-livered tightwad wants to pinch a few pennies.

As the door to the lift opens out into her flat, she crosses the threshold wearily. At this point she doesn’t think she even has the energy to get out of her work clothes much less cobble together something to eat. Or eat for that matter. All she wants is to sit down and not move again until the New Year.

Just as she’s contemplating doing that, the buzzer to the door downstairs goes off. Sighing, M moves to the intercom on the wall. “Yes?”

“Ma’am, there’s a James Bond here to see you? Shall I let him up?” 

M pinches the bridge of her nose. She could say no, but then she’d just have to deal with him later. Better to get it out of the way. “Yes, thank you.”

As she waits for Bond to descend upon her, M debates whether to sit or not. The way she’s feeling, she’ll probably fall asleep if she stops moving and that’d be a fine way to greet Bond. The lift pings and she turns, brow arching as Bond leaves the lift weighted down by several bags.

“What on Earth?” Moving forward, she relives Bond of a few of the bags, nose twitching as she gets a whiff of a wonderful aroma. Her stomach grumbles, reminding her that she worked through lunch. 

Looking up, she catches the corner of Bond’s grin. It’s not his usual smug offering; it’s small and friendly and she finds herself smiling back. “I didn’t know Santa made food deliveries as well. So good of you to use the door instead of the chimney.”

Bond scowls. “See if I try to do something nice for you lot ever again.”

M laughs, then helps him take things into the kitchen, where they dish out the takeaway that Bond has brought. 

~*~*~*~*~*~

A couple of hours later, M is relaxing on her sofa, feeling much more invigorated despite the warm meal. She listens to Bond puttering around in her kitchen, washing up the few dishes from dinner. She’s rather glad he showed up when he did, as she’s sure she would have chosen to go to bed hungry instead of looking after herself. 

When Bond exits her kitchen, she sits up so that she can give him her full attention. “Thank you very much, James. It was a lovely dinner and the company wasn’t bad either.” She smiles so that he knows her jibe was in jest. To her surprise, instead of replying with a snappy comeback, Bond looks distinctly flustered. “James?”

“Uh.” He ducks out of her living room, and into the hall, before returning with one last plastic bag. He hands it over to her as he passes by her where she’s sitting on the sofa and settles into one of the chairs opposite. He doesn’t meet her gaze. 

M opens the bag and lifts out the small rectangular box it contains. Peeling off the wrapping paper, she’s touched to find a bottle of her favourite perfume. She could wonder how he knew it was her favourite, but, he’s Bond, James Bond. Of course he knows. It should annoy her how he’s always taking liberties with her privacy, but in the strangest way, it just makes her feel cared for. 

M sets the bottle on the little table by the arm of the couch, then clears her throat. “James. Come here.” 

Bond hesitates and then joins her on the sofa. 

When he’s settled, M turns so that she can look at him properly, and takes his hand in hers. “Thank you for present, James.” Then she leans up and brushes her lips against his. 

Shivering, Bond lets her lead the kiss, savouring the warmth of her body pressing against his, as well as the slickness of her tongue and the slight roughness of her lips. He puts his hands on her waist, just to keep himself from groping other parts of her. The kiss seems to go on forever; the two of them drawing back slightly to take a breath before pressing forward again.

M pulls away more fully, a small smile curving her lips, which are now red from Bond nipping at them. “I’m amazed you restrained yourself to one present, James. And a small one at that.” 

Bond flushes, which causes M to laugh. 

She smacks his chest. “James! What else! Tell me!”

Bond sighs. “I might have also gotten you some lingerie and jewellery. And I might have given serious thought to just sticking a bow on my… uh.. forehead.” He coughs unsubtly.

M falls against his chest, overcome by giggles. “Oh James.” 

Chuckling, Bond holds her as she gets herself under control. “Yeah, I decided against that one. Was afraid you might take it into your head to use it for target practice.” His dry tone nearly sets her off again. 

After another moment of breathing deeply, M lifts her head and looks at Bond. “I’m glad you decided on the perfume.” Leaning in, she busses his nose, grinning when he wrinkles it at her.


End file.
